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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117422">Reclaiming What Was (Nearly) Lost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachello344/pseuds/Rachello344'>Rachello344</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Peter Hale, Canon Non-compliance, Character Death, Ends with Steter, For a certain value of "human", Getting Together, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Mating Bond, Mild Praise Kink, Self-Hatred, Starts with dubcon Steo, mild exhibitionism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:42:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachello344/pseuds/Rachello344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been sleeping with Theo for some time, avoiding the pack that has abandoned him, but Lydia has had enough.  She takes matters into her own hands, so that Peter can take Stiles into his.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>551</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reclaiming What Was (Nearly) Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles frowned; his reflection looked about as exhausted as he felt. There was a fresh hickey sucked high against the side of his neck, and a spark of self-loathing caught and burned cold at the memory of how it got there.</p><p>He dropped his head forward, pressing it to the glass. He took a shuddering breath. What was he doing?</p><p>But then, even with the mark, no one would notice. His dad was way too busy right now, Scott wasn't talking to him... When was the last time he’d accepted an invitation from Lydia? He and Malia—had they been fighting, or did they break up? She hadn’t texted him in over a week, so they probably weren’t dating anymore. And he barely knew whoever the newest pack members were.</p><p>Some pack they were.</p><p>His phone dinged on his nightstand, but he ignored it. There was a “pack” meeting in a couple minutes, but no way was he going. What was the point of going to a meeting where he would be talked over, ignored, dismissed?</p><p>At least he wouldn’t have much time to mope about it tonight. Theo always came by after pack meetings to see him.</p><p>Stiles went downstairs; he might as well eat now. There wouldn’t be time when Theo arrived. He always had a one-track mind when it came to his visits.</p>
<hr/><p>Theo was, if nothing else, punctual. Probably no more than ten minutes after the meeting ended, Theo was letting himself in through Stiles’ window. Sometimes Stiles thought about finding a way to lock him out, but mostly it was nice to feel wanted for a change. And <em>God</em>, but Theo wanted him. Theo looked at him, at whatever was left of Stiles Stilinski after everything he’d been through, and he was still interested.</p><p>Sometimes it scared him how much Theo wanted him, how much he wanted <em>from </em>him, but it was exhilarating, too. And if nothing else, Theo <em>saw</em> him. It might be whatever version Theo wanted to see, but at least someone was <em>there</em>, <em>looking</em>. Looking, and not shying away from the darkness he carried with him.</p><p>Theo leaned against his window, cool and handsome in his dark over-shirt. Stiles licked his lips. Theo’s eyes fell from his mouth to the mark he’d left the previous day. Stiles huffed. Possessive little shit. With any luck, he might be able to get a little more from Theo than he usually did. If this was gonna happen, Stiles was getting off. He wouldn’t let Theo leave until he did this time.</p><p>“What, just gonna stare?” Stiles baited. “Thought you came here for a reason. If you don’t need something from me, I do actually have things to—”</p><p>Theo pulled him out of his chair and threw him onto his bed. Hook, line, and sinker. Theo was also, for lack of a better word, <em>easy</em>. He knew what he wanted, but so did Stiles. And as long as Theo felt like he was getting what he wanted, Stiles could usually get what <em>he</em> wanted.</p><p>Or close enough, anyway.</p><p>Stiles tugged him down into a biting kiss, letting Theo remove his shirt, pants, underwear, tossing Theo’s away as well. Stiles loved the feeling of skin against his. Especially shifters. They all burned so hot, and Stiles was always so cold. Stiles let his hands wander, dragging his nails down Theo’s back until blood smeared under his fingers.</p><p>Theo groaned, sucking at one of the marks he’d left on Stiles’ chest, hand trailing down to rub against his hole.</p><p>Stiles hissed, head dropping back. “Lube, Theo,” he reminded him, fidgeting against his fingers.</p><p>“You don’t think I can open you up without?” Theo’s eyes were bright, feverish. Stiles knew he could, knew what he was planning, but if he seemed like he wanted it, Theo might not follow through.</p><p>“I think if you try it, I will fucking defenestrate you here and now.”</p><p>“Ooh, big word.” Theo smirked, licked his lips. “Wonder if I can’t make you forget how to speak altogether.” Before Stiles could do more than shift his weight, Theo was holding his hips down, his mouth latching onto his hole, tongue setting to work.</p><p>Stiles arched, grasping at Theo’s hair, pulling sharply, letting his nails dig into his scalp. “Spit is,” he gasped, “not an adequate—<em>oh, fuck</em>—replacement for,” he moaned, “lube. You bastard,” he added for good measure. Theo’s tongue was probably the best thing about him. Stiles rocked his hips against his mouth, still pulling his hair.</p><p>“I’ll add lube later, you baby,” Theo muttered, like he hadn't ‘forgotten’ before.</p><p>“You fucking b-better,” Stiles forced out. “God, <em>Theo</em>.”</p><p>Theo opened him up too slowly, tongue and (dry) fingers stretching him inexorably, interminably. Stiles could hear pleas and curses falling from his mouth in equal measure as Theo took him apart piece by piece.</p><p>By the time Theo pressed inside, sans lube, Stiles was almost grateful for the painful burn. He was wet-ish, but not nearly enough. Stiles writhed beneath the onslaught.</p><p>“Son of a <em>bitch</em>,” he yelped as Theo thrust in too roughly. “Seriously, what do you have against lube? Are you some kind of sadist?”</p><p>“Smells wrong.” Theo bit at his neck. “Tastes bad.”</p><p>“Fucking hurts without, dumb shifter,” Stiles snapped. He could hardly get off like this, not when the drag of every thrust made him wince. “Get the fucking lube.”</p><p>Theo scowled, but complied. He didn’t pull out to put the lube on, he just poured it out near where it needed to be and got back to fucking him. Like Stiles was some toy that needed a slight adjustment, like his needs didn’t matter. If they had a different relationship, he could see himself enjoying it.</p><p>Stiles hated them both, but at least the burn eased, and he could actually start to feel something more than pain. He clung to Theo’s shoulders, and pretended things were better.</p><p>The way he was held down, the way Theo marked him, even the almost bruising force of the thrusts were all so close to what he wanted. But, no matter what he tried, or even who he tried it with, he couldn’t get exactly what he craved. He wanted to cry, suddenly. He had never gotten what he wanted. Out of sex, out of life. He almost laughed, shocked by the urge.</p><p>“Fucking perfect for me, baby.” Theo sucked a mark behind his ear before kissing him hungrily. Stiles pulled at his hair the way he knew Theo liked.</p><p>Almost, almost, almost.</p><p>Theo slid a hand between them to jack him off. Stiles was pleasantly surprised that he’d bothered to get some more lube for it. Stiles wrapped his legs around Theo’s waist, moaning for him and sucking a mark of his own into Theo’s shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood.</p><p>Theo groaned, coming inside him with a few final thrusts. Stiles melted beneath him as he followed suit shortly after.</p><p>“So good for me.” Theo’s voice was soft and almost slurred with pleasure.</p><p>Stiles sighed and turned over to be spooned. His eyes fell shut, and he snuggled back into the firm chest and tight embrace.</p><p>The skin-to-skin cuddling almost made everything else worth it. He might even let Theo convince him to go for another round, but only if he was properly cuddled first. Maybe after a nap.</p>
<hr/><p>There were a lot of things that required Lydia’s attention. Scott and his band of idiots were causing her no amount of stress, Stiles had gone AWOL, Theo was certainly up to no good (likely <em>with </em>Stiles), and Jackson was planning on making his way back to Beacon Hills (accompanied by a few “friends”). She did not have time to be sitting in ugly waiting rooms in ugly buildings. She frowned down at her purse. This was a terrible idea.</p><p>But it was the only one she had.</p><p>As visiting hours <em>finally </em>began, she stood and brushed off her skirt, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Her heels clicked with every step, drawing eyes as she entered the room, walking to the table she knew held her target.</p><p>She sat down at the plastic table and primly crossed her legs.</p><p>Peter Hale was staring her down, eyes wary, curious, and intent in equal measure; his nostrils flared subtly.</p><p>“Well, now, Clarisse,” Peter said, voice low. “I was expecting Mr. Graham to pay me a visit long before you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>Lydia buried her annoyance. Stiles would have appreciated the joke, but Stiles wasn’t here. “His name is Theo Raeken.” She folded her hands on the table between them. “Can I trust you to cooperate?”</p><p>“This is for Mr. Graham?”</p><p>He didn’t need to ask.</p><p>She didn’t answer.</p><p>Peter sat back, nodding. “You can, of course. You know he’s my favorite.”</p><p>“I do.” Lydia stood, brushing her skirt out. “Be ready. I’ll be back. Soon.” She was only missing the final component. Her plan was nearly complete.</p><p>“Can I trust <em>you</em>, Ms. Starling?”</p><p>Lydia spared him a glance over her shoulder. Peter’s blue eyes looked as concerned as she’d ever seen them. She supposed it was a lot to ask of him, all things considered. But they really didn’t have any other choice. “It’s for Will Graham,” she answered. “And I’m not sure how many other options we have, <em>Dr. Lecter</em>.”</p><p>She left the room the way she came, heels click-clacking against the linoleum.</p><p>Soon. Very soon, now.</p><p>Lydia Martin was not going to let some bastard try to get between her and one of her only remaining friends.</p><p>If Theo had thought to involve her in his little courtship, she might not have bothered working against him. But he hadn’t, and she’d be damned before she let Stiles abandon her in this God forsaken town. Not when he was one of the only ones left with any sense of self-preservation.</p>
<hr/><p>Peter stared, rubbing at the burn against his wrists from the wolfsbane cuffs a Mr. Mahealani had been kind enough to remove.</p><p>Lydia Martin stood in a shaft of moonlight, a man bound and broken on the warehouse floor before her. An alpha, Peter amended. She looked resplendent, like a goddess of victory, granting him a blessing before battle.</p><p>Peter licked his lips. “For me? Clarisse, you shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“Just get on with it, Hannibal,” Lydia snapped. “We don’t have much time, unless you’re okay with Stiles getting himself bonded to someone else?”</p><p>The word echoed in his ears. How Lydia knew about bonding was beyond him, irrelevant for the time being. Peter’s feet carried him across the room, a growl caught in his throat as he tore through the alpha’s. He howled as the power flooded him, filled him, all with one purpose, one cause, one goal. The shift rolled through him in a wave before it settled, the power boiling somewhere just behind his heart.</p><p>He could feel a connection to Lydia, and through her to his future betas across the sea. It settled the power, knowing they were his, that Lydia had given her word. His connection to Stiles was frayed close to snapping, but he could still feel the power thrumming through it, could still feel <em>Stiles</em>. He ran his tongue over his teeth, flexed his hands to feel his claws. Stiles would be his, he decided. Before the night was over. He would make sure no one could take him away. Never again.</p><p>When he lifted his gaze, Lydia looked curious. He couldn’t smell any fear. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, eyes dark beneath her lashes.</p><p>“I was expecting you to go feral again,” she explained, as if that made her lack of fear any clearer. “Can you find Stiles?”</p><p>“I can do one better,” he said, turning to leave, “I’m going to make him come to me.” <em>But first</em>, he thought, tugging at the hem of his borrowed coat, <em>I need to look the part</em><em>.</em></p>
<hr/><p>Stiles jolted to full alertness, his hands fumbling on his keyboard. Something was in the forest, way deeper than anything normally went, like it was heading to—like it was near the—</p><p>A roar tore through the sky, rattling Stiles to his bones. Something in him came loose; the sound sparked <em>yearning</em>, deep in his blood. He found himself pushing to his feet without realizing. By the time his mind caught up with his body, he was already out the back door, shoes on, his red hoodie pulled over his shirt to fight back the autumn chill.</p><p>He shouldn’t be doing this. Walking out into the woods alone, going <em>there </em>alone, was just asking for trouble, but...</p><p>Stiles shuddered. No, he had to go. He had to know what was out there, what was calling to him. He had to see for himself.</p><p>His feet carried him to the Nemeton’s clearing with hardly a misstep. The other wolves in town were likely to investigate sooner or later, but they never could reliably find the clearing. Not without Stiles.</p><p>Stiles broke through the tree line expecting a lot of things. The Nogitsune, lounging atop the stump, maybe, or some new and terrible creature they’d yet to face; maybe something Scott had seen, but didn’t think Stiles needed to know about.</p><p>Stiles was not expecting Peter Hale.</p><p>The man was impeccably dressed in a black collared shirt over a tight, white v-neck. Stiles swallowed thickly. Peter’s hair was neatly styled, and his eyes were bright and eager. His lips curved up in a pleased smile. Stiles wanted to whine. No man should look that good, not after being locked in an asylum for as long as he had been.</p><p>“Stiles,” he purred, “you got my call.”</p><p>Stiles was still looking him over, drinking him in. For all that Peter looked like he’d never been to Eichen, something was different about him. Something fundamental had <em>changed</em>. He just couldn't put his finger on it. “Security’s more lax than it was when I was there, looks like,” Stiles muttered, eyes still trailing over him, cataloging.</p><p>“I had a bit of help from some new old friends.” Peter’s smile grew sharper. Red.</p><p>Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. <em>Fuck</em>. “Who died and made you alpha?” he quipped, like the ground hadn’t shifted under his feet, like he didn’t feel dizzy with the realization.</p><p>“Do you know, I don't know? I didn’t ask his name when I killed him. Perhaps Lydia knows it.”</p><p>“Lydia?” Stiles’ brow furrowed. “<em>Lydia</em> found you an alpha? And broke you out of Eichen? <em>Why</em><em>?”</em> And why hadn’t she warned him? Or asked for his help? He’d been ignoring her calls, sure, but he still listened to all her messages, still read all her texts. She could have—but she couldn’t have. Not with Theo always over his shoulder.</p><p>Peter made a show of examining one of his claws. “She told me we had a problem. I agreed to help her solve it.” His eyes were still red, his teeth sharp when he smiled. Stiles licked his lips. “You’ve left our dear Lydia high and dry, Stiles. She’s been worrying about you.”</p><p><em>Our</em>. Stiles liked the sound of that. <em>Our </em>Lydia. He shifted, his heart beating fast, but not with fear.</p><p>“I’m not—I don’t have an alpha, anymore, I don’t think. Scott... He... Well, he... never really was. I haven’t felt like part of the pack, since...” Stiles looked down, shame settling over his shoulders, heavy and cold. <em>Since I killed all those people</em><em>, </em>he didn’t say. <em>Since Derek</em><em>.</em></p><p>“Of course he wasn’t, Stiles.” Peter was rolling his eyes when Stiles looked up, but the gesture didn’t feel cruel. Exasperated, almost. “You led him into danger, not the other way around. And besides, your nature is more suited to... a traditional pack.” His eyes flared red again. “From the moment this all started, you have <em>always</em> been a Hale, Stiles.”</p><p>Stiles blinked slowly, his cheeks flushing. <em>Mine</em>, Peter meant. <em>You have always been mine</em>.</p><p>“Stiles?” Theo called from somewhere behind him. The heat in Stiles bled out, replaced by dread. “What are you—” Theo broke through the tree line. His eyes narrowed, suspicious. “You must be Peter Hale.”</p><p>“Theo Raeken, I presume.” Peter looked pleased. “You’ve saved me quite a deal of trouble. I was going to find you after I finished my little chat with Stiles, here.”</p><p><em>The problem</em>, Stiles realized. Lydia traded an alpha for Peter’s assistance in killing Theo. He frowned. Theo was a dick, and he was certainly on the wrong side, but did he deserve to die? He was the only one who ever listened to him—</p><p>Was that even true?</p><p>Theo was saying something, yelling about something or another, but Stiles couldn’t focus, his mind spinning. He crossed his arms, focusing inward.</p><p>Lydia listened, even when no one else did. She heard what he said about Theo, and took matters into her own hands. Lydia went to get <em>Peter</em>, who she hated, just to get Stiles away from Theo. Stiles was the one who thought Peter didn’t deserve Eichen. Stiles was the one who knew Theo was up to no good. And Lydia <em>heard</em> him.</p><p>And Peter... Peter had <em>always</em> listened to him, even when no one else in their ragtag pack did. He always felt welcomed by Peter. Despite their history, or maybe because of it, Peter’s presence made Stiles feel <em>safe</em>.</p><p>Peter felt like <em>pack</em>.</p><p>“Stiles,” Theo shouted. Stiles’ head snapped back up. “You know you can’t trust him! Whatever he’s offered you, it’s probably all <em>lies</em>.”</p><p>Stiles faltered, offended. He wasn’t sure what they were arguing about anymore, but more than that—“<em>Who</em> says he can’t be trusted? Scott?”</p><p>Theo flinched.</p><p>“You of all people should know that Scott’s judgment is seriously skewed.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Peter bites Scott without his consent and goes on a revenge murder spree, and suddenly he’s The Worst Person Ever™, like we don’t know easily six worse people.” Stiles crossed his arms, finally letting himself feel the frustration and irritation he’d always stifled. “I mean, we can work with <em>Gerard </em>or <em>Deucalion</em>, both of whom have killed <em>way</em> more people, most of whom didn’t deserve it, by the way, but <em>Peter</em>, who killed like <em>eight</em> people who were all guilty of arson, murder, or conspiracy to commit—that’s where we draw the line.”</p><p>He laughed a little. “Besides, between the three people in this clearing, the one person who’s lied to me the least is Peter.”</p><p>Theo looked flummoxed, tried to find the words to protest, but Stiles knew he wouldn’t. There weren’t any that would work. Theo didn’t know him, not like he was beginning to realize Peter did.</p><p>“Tell me, Stiles,” Peter said, pleasure dripping from his words, “what has this boy offered you? He’s offered nothing to our Lydia. She was rather annoyed about it, in fact.”</p><p>Stiles looked Peter up and down, appraising. “He’s given me company, a listening ear, protection. He’s offering me a new pack, one where I’m heard.” He tilted his head to the side, innocent. “Can you do better?”</p><p>Peter’s eyes flashed at the challenge, and he stalked forward, blood red gaze intent on Stiles as he closed the distance between them. Theo shifted his stance, but Peter ignored him, all his attention on Stiles.</p><p><em>Where it belonged</em>.</p><p>“I can give you a new pack made of the old,” Peter said, voice low and hungry. “Lydia. Jackson, Isaac, and Ethan. Derek, should he come home. Cora, maybe. Malia, if we convince her. And if there are others you want, I’d be just as happy with a bigger pack than that.” He circled slowly, eyes trailing over Stiles like he was preparing to feast. Stiles swallowed, keeping Peter in his line of sight, turning as he paced. “I can promise to give your father the information he needs to stay safe.”</p><p>Peter stopped, a foot away, the distance between them taut with <em>potential</em>. Potential for what, Stiles didn’t know, though he could guess.</p><p>“Even mad with power, lost to the beast, I wanted you.” Peter’s eyes were intent, and still that burning, intoxicating red. “I offer you a choice, Stiles. You can refuse me. Walk away, and I won’t follow. I won’t stop you or try to force you.” His lips turned up in a slow smile. “But I think you already know: I have already given you everything he has to offer. The only reason he could get to you, the only reason he was able to tempt you away from me, was because I was... temporarily indisposed.”</p><p>Stiles was startled by the laugh that escaped him. “Is that what we’re calling it?”</p><p>“Lydia told me you tried to stop Scott, that you fought with him for me. Did you have a plan, dear boy? Before you got sidetracked by everything that seems to have happened in my absence?”</p><p>Stiles flushed, but held Peter’s gaze.</p><p>Peter closed the last step between them, and slowly took Stiles’ wrist, lifting it to his mouth and brushing his lips over the fragile skin exposed there. Stiles’ heart pounded in his chest, the echo of memory sparking between them. “I’d offer you a different bite now, Stiles. You won’t turn, not with all that magic burning under your skin.” He hummed, dragging his nose across his wrist, scenting him. “No, you won’t turn, but it will... change things between us.”</p><p>Theo snarled. “Get your filthy hands <em>off him</em>.” Theo threw himself at Peter, all rage and jealousy. Stiles stumbled backward, pushed out of the way by Peter before—in a dizzying move Stiles’ eyes couldn’t track—he knocked Theo to the ground, pinning him with all his weight, lips pulled back to reveal fangs. Stiles swallowed, prayed that his body would behave itself for once.</p><p>“You have had your turn, <em>boy</em>,” Peter growled. “I am providing a counter-offer. Now, <em>wait</em>. <em>Your. Turn</em>.”</p><p>Stiles’ magic flared under his skin. He’d never had a good handle on how it worked, what it could do, but he could feel now that whatever it was, it was more powerful than he’d realized. It was partially Void, partially Stiles, and it was all his. He clenched his hands at his sides, trying to keep a leash on whatever it was he subconsciously wanted the power to do. Peter’s head tipped forward—bearing his throat, Stiles realized. Stiles licked his lips, trailed his tongue over his teeth.</p><p>“What would you have me do?” Peter asked. “I would kill him for the insult, but only if that’s what you want.”</p><p>“He’s fucked me, you know,” Stiles blurted, testing. This couldn’t be a mistake. He wasn’t sure they’d survive it. “A lot, actually. And before that, I was sleeping with your daughter. Is that going to be a problem?”</p><p>Peter didn’t take his eyes off Theo, where he struggled beneath Peter’s hold, but Stiles could feel his attention regardless. “It doesn’t bother me. Especially not if you choose me, in the end.” He tilted his head, curious, dangerous. “Do you <em>want </em>it to bother me?”</p><p>“It probably should.” Stiles laughed. “Fuck, it should bother <em>me</em>. There must be something seriously wrong with me.”</p><p>“Whatever’s wrong with you, I’m certainly worse. And you’re considering me anyway, aren’t you?” Peter was probably smirking. “Honestly, Stiles, feigning a normal morality doesn't suit you.”</p><p>“Stiles, you can’t really be considering this? He’s a monster!” Theo snapped, still thrashing beneath Peter.</p><p>Stiles laughed, harder than before. “Oh, Theo, we’re all monsters here. A werewolf, a chimera, and the empty shell of a nogitsune.” He couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this the Stiles you’ve been courting all this time?” Stiles stalked forward, beaming coldly down at Theo. “Aren't you happy? You wanted the Void, well, now you have him.” He tipped his head, still smiling, though he knew there was no life in it. “Why don’t you look happy?”</p><p>Theo shook his head, but didn’t answer.</p><p>Stiles turned to Peter. He felt cold all over, empty through and through. He didn’t know what his expression looked like, but he was sure it was all wrong, all Void. “Tell me, Peter. Which do you prefer,” Stiles said, commanded.</p><p>Peter finally took his eyes off Theo and looked. His eyes trailed over Stiles’ face, taking him in, assessing. Stiles felt like a butterfly beneath glass, like he was the one pinned beneath Peter’s claws.</p><p>Peter met his eyes. “I want you however you want to be.”</p><p>The truth of it settled over Stiles like a warm blanket, like arms around shoulders, close and comforting. The lashing of his magic stilled under Peter’s gaze. The cold disdain of the void warmed, gentled. He let his shoulders relax. “Good answer.” He looked back down at Theo, still too Void for anything approaching sympathy. “I am sorry about this. Not sorry enough <em>not to</em>, mind, but well. We had fun, didn’t we?”</p><p>“Stiles? Stiles—no! What are you—?”</p><p>Stiles shrugged, indolent. “I like Peter’s offer better, that’s all. It’s nothing personal, really. You were as good to me as you knew how to be.” He nodded at Peter, taking a step back. “Go ahead. Kill him.”</p><p>Peter smiled. “As you wish.”</p><p>Peter tore out his throat, but Stiles could feel... He wasn’t dead yet. And there was something tugging at the back of his head...</p><p>“So a chimera? What the hell did they make him out of? A starfish?”</p><p>“Behead him,” Stiles heard his voice say.</p><p>Peter glanced up. He frowned. “Stiles?”</p><p>Stiles’ head was spinning. “His power is unnatural, not meant to be,” his voice said. “We will take it into ourself, purify it.”</p><p>He swayed a little on his feet. “Nemeton,” Stiles said. “We—the Nemeton—We want him.”</p><p>“What do <em>you </em>want me to do, Stiles?”</p><p>Stiles closed his eyes. He could feel the Nemeton’s pull, could feel the lure of it in his blood. But it wasn’t controlling him. It wasn’t twisting his mind, only borrowing his voice.</p><p>“It’s not evil,” Stiles said. “Just... don’t take any of the power. You—It really is wrong. I don’t want to know what absorbing it would do to you. I think this is the safest way to kill him.”</p><p>“Okay,” Peter said easily. Stiles opened his eyes in time to watch Peter tear straight through, severing Theo’s head from his body. Stiles swallowed thickly.</p><p>Peter laid the body and head against the Nemeton. Stiles could <em>feel </em>the surge of power, the pulse of <em>rightness</em>. He bit back a moan, falling to his knees.</p><p>“Stiles?” Peter knelt beside him, checking his eyes. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“It’s, ah, intense.” Stiles dropped his head forward, shivering but not cold. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a true sacrifice,” they said.</p><p>“I’d imagine. Hales stopped doing that sort of thing several generations back.”</p><p>“The Nemeton isn’t only for sacrifices,” they said. “We witnessed many ceremonies, once. Births, Namings, Matings... It has been a very long time.”</p><p>Peter nosed at his throat, scenting him.</p><p>“Well, isn’t that interesting.” He brushed his lips over Stiles’ cheek. “What do you want to do, Stiles?”</p><p>Stiles still felt a little like he was spinning, even with his head pressed tight to the crook of Peter’s neck. His scent was grounding, something almost spicy beneath the scent of the forest. Stiles let his eyes close, pressing closer.</p><p>He could feel what it would mean, the thing Peter was offering, the thing the Nemeton wanted to witness. The sheer permanence of it made his heart flutter with longing. Peter would never be able to leave him. They would be tied together always, never able to break the bond between them.</p><p>Peter had been about to give him this at 16, had wanted to turn him and tie him in a single bite. Stiles almost wished he’d said yes, then. Maybe he wouldn’t be so empty now if he had.</p><p>“Please,” Stiles said. “I chose you. I <em>choose </em>you. Let’s make it official.”</p><p>Peter growled, something low that vibrated along Stiles’ ribs where they were pressed together. Peter tilted Stiles’ head back and sealed their mouths together. Stiles moaned, clinging to his shoulders as he was devoured, <em>consumed</em>. He’d never—none of his partners had ever made him feel like <em>this</em>. Kissing alone made him feel like he was going to fall apart beneath Peter’s hands.</p><p>Peter tipped him back, laying them down in the grass. Stiles wrapped his legs around his waist. Why had he waited so long to do this? Why hadn’t he thought to ask Peter for a date, sex, <em>everything</em><em>?</em></p><p>“My sweet boy,” he breathed, “I’ve been waiting a very long time for this.” He broke their kiss to suck marks over the ones left by Theo, nipping behind his ear, along the column of his throat.</p><p>Stiles tilted his head to give him room. “That’s good. You won’t think I’m easy for putting out before you’ve even taken me on a date.”</p><p>Peter laughed against his shoulder. “Oh, Stiles, nothing about you has <em>ever </em>been easy.”</p><p>“Oh, like you aren’t <em>endlessly</em> difficult.” Stiles said, like he wasn't soaking up the attention. Peter bit his jaw, firm but careful not to break the skin; Stiles whined, high in his throat. “<em>Peter</em>,” he gasped. “You’re wearing too much. We’re both—Clothes <em>off</em>.”</p><p>“Yes, dear.” Peter gave him a peck on the lips before sitting up and tugging off his shirts. Stiles let himself look, eyes tracing over the firm lines of his chest, the fine dusting of hair across it. Stiles was still looking when Peter maneuvered him to get his hoodie and t-shirt off. “Like what you see?”</p><p>Stiles hummed his agreement, reaching out to stroke a hand over his chest hair. “Don’t you normally wax?”</p><p>Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not as impeccably groomed as I usually am. I did get out of the asylum about eight hours ago.”</p><p>“I’m not <em>complaining</em>,” Stiles muttered, still stroking the hair. “I’ve never—I’ve only been with two people. One was a girl, and the other was Theo, who either waxes or doesn’t grow chest hair.” He leaned up to rub his cheek against Peter’s chest above his heart. “Yes,” he decided, “I like it.”</p><p>Peter shook his head. “Are you always this easily distracted?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Stiles looked up from under his lashes. “Guess you’ll have to do something to keep me focused, <em>Alpha</em>.”</p><p>Peter’s eyes flared. “It figures you would be a brat,” he said, pulling Stiles’ hands away to pin them to the grass above his head. “Well, how does this sound: I’m going to open you up on my tongue and fingers, and then I’m going to bend you over the tree and fuck you until I’m all you can think about.”</p><p>Stiles bit back a moan. “Big words. You sure you can back those up? You think your cock is gonna be enough to make my head quiet?”</p><p>Peter’s smirk spoke volumes. He undid Stiles’ pants, maintaining eye contact. Peter finally lowered his gaze when he got the zip down. He chuckled. “Already so excited for me. I wonder if the consummation counts if I make you come more than once,” he mused.</p><p>“The mating will count for the duration,” they said. Stiles slapped his hands over his mouth, wide-eyed. His cheeks burned. Peter was grinning up at him, dangerous and delighted.</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, blue eyes dark and intermittently scarlet, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”</p><p>“What big teeth you have,” Stiles said into his hands.</p><p>“The better to eat you with, my dear.” Peter stripped off his pants, but Stiles couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He was still laughing when Peter licked a stripe up his dick. He moaned, hips bucking.</p><p>“Thought you were gonna,” he moaned, “open me up. Come <em>on</em>, Peter, want your cock in me <em>yesterday</em>.”</p><p>“So greedy.” Peter kissed his thigh. “I’ll get there, baby. I’m definitely going to get my cock in that tight little ass of yours, but I refuse to rush this. Not now that I finally have you.”</p><p>“What if—<em>fuck</em>, Peter, <em>your mouth</em>—what if Scott’s pack comes to investigate?”</p><p>Peter rolled his eyes, kissing a line up his dick, licking around the head. “Are you really still thinking while you’re in my mouth? I’m not <em>that </em>rusty.”</p><p>“D-Definitely not,” he gasped, eyes losing focus for a moment. “Fuck, <em>fuck</em>, I just—multitasking. Don’t wanna get interrupted.”</p><p>“How about this,” Peter sat up, fisting his cock as he spoke. “Let me worry about interruptions. I won’t let anyone else see you like this,” his eyes flashed, “this is all mine now.”</p><p>“Yours,” Stiles agreed. He felt warm, filled up with Peter’s voice, his touch. “I trust you.”</p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p>Stiles jolted, eyes widening as he came with a startled cry. Peter’s expression shifted rapidly from surprise to interest to something devious. Stiles covered his face with his hands. “What the <em>fuck</em>,” he hissed. “I—God, Peter, I swear I can last longer than that.” He’d barely even been stroking him. He could already feel a tingling across his skin, the Nemeton soaking up some of the excess energy. It felt... God, it felt good. It really had been too long.</p><p>“Oh, Stiles. You’re just too good to be true, aren’t you.” Peter leaned down and peeled Stiles’ hands away from his mouth, letting him keep them over his eyes. “I can tell you’re gonna be so good for me.” He kissed him. “Have you never been taken care of like this, sweet boy?” He kissed him again, longer and deeper. When he pulled back, Stiles whined. “Have you never let anyone give you what you need?”</p><p>“Thought I had,” Stiles muttered.</p><p>Peter bit his lip in warning. “You won’t get what you need by lying, sweetheart. Not to me.”</p><p>“Didn’t know how to ask. Didn’t know what I wanted.” Stiles wanted another kiss, wanted Peter to cover him, fill him up, hold him tight and never let go. “Theo was close, but he couldn’t—He was never <em>enough</em>. I always <em>wanted</em> after, felt all wrong.”</p><p>Peter kissed him, hard and hungry. “I know exactly what you need,” Peter told him.</p><p>Stiles believed him, could feel it in his blood, his bones. “Please,” Stiles gasped. “Open me up? Wanna have your cock in me, Peter, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>“Greedy.” Peter kissed him. “Good boy.”</p><p>Stiles could feel himself trying to get hard again.</p><p>“Roll over,” Peter said. “Ass up.”</p><p>Stiles shuddered. “Make me.”</p><p>Peter did, flipping him over and tugging his hips up in a move Stiles could barely follow. His fingers teased over his hole until Stiles thought for sure he’d go crazy. He rocked his hips backwards, hands clutching at the dirt beneath them.</p><p>He turned his head, about to ask—but Peter was smirking as he pulled a small packet out of his pocket. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. His arms gave beneath him. Peter chuckled low and dark. “Oh, honey, you didn’t think I came here unprepared, did you?”</p><p>Stiles shook his head, but it was less an answer than an expression of how overwhelmed he was. His brain couldn’t figure out what to latch onto: Peter knew he was going to be doing this, claiming Stiles here and now. Peter thought to bring <em>lube</em>. After so long with Theo, the gesture was enough to have tears burning behind his eyes.</p><p>“You’ve been with the undeserving for too long, Stiles,” Peter said, tearing open the packet of lube and pouring it over his hole. “Such a stupid boy, not giving you what you were looking for...”</p><p>Stiles pushed back onto his fingers. “Always said it smelled gross.”</p><p>“The stuff worth using is a little more expensive. Nothing a teenager could ever afford to keep stocked.” Peter shook his head. His fingers slid in easy. Stiles melted beneath them, moaning shamelessly. “Besides, even the cheap stuff is worth using. I mean, look at you, on your knees for me, desperate for whatever I’m willing to give you.” Peter crooked his fingers with more accuracy than Stiles was anticipating. He jolted violently and knocked his head into the dirt, Peter’s fingers sliding free.</p><p>Peter tried to stifle a laugh behind him, but Stiles still heard. He pressed his head to the ground and laughed. Quietly at first, but then he couldn’t seem to stop, his stomach clenching until it started to ache with it.</p><p>Peter draped across his back, letting himself laugh openly. “How do you always manage to be the least graceful person I’ve ever met?”</p><p>“It's—” he broke, laughing harder. “It’s a talent. Takes practice. Years of it.”</p><p>“You’re ruining the moment, Stiles,” Peter said, but without any admonishment. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d say Peter was enjoying himself. And he certainly couldn’t be that annoyed, since his fingers were sliding back up his thigh toward his ass. “I’m doing my best to open you up for me, and you just don’t appreciate it. It’s hard work, you know.” He toyed with the rim, keeping his fingers back whenever Stiles pressed toward them.</p><p>“Not that hard,” Stiles muttered between persistent giggles. “I do it all the time.”</p><p>Peter pressed two of his fingers in, sliding them in deep. Stiles clenched down around them, biting the tip of his tongue. “Oh? And have you ever thought of me?”</p><p>“I’ve thought of a lot of people.”</p><p>Peter pulled back until only the tips of his fingers were still inside. “I don’t think that’s what I asked, Stiles.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Peter, can’t you take a joke?”</p><p>“Sure,” Peter said. He didn’t move his fingers. When Stiles shifted his weight, Peter’s free hand held him in place. “Nevertheless.”</p><p>Peter waited, stroking his rim. The silence was too much. Stiles hated the quiet, hated the way it amplified his every thought until they were bouncing around his head, thunderous and unending and strange. Without any other remedy, he did what he always did.</p><p>He talked.</p><p>“Fuck, <em>fine</em>, <em>yes</em>, okay? I have thought about you when I fingered myself.” Peter’s fingers thrust back inside, obliging. They did not resume their rhythm. “Fuck you,” Stiles groaned. “Are you really gonna make me tell you my fantasies about you?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll return the favor later.” He bit his hip, like he was sealing his promise. “Now, then, go on.”</p><p>“Not much to tell,” Stiles admitted, sighing as Peter got back to opening him up. “I have a few toys, nothing too ridiculous, just some dildoes mainly, but I’d open myself up for them. And I’d think about your hands on me, in me. Think about how good your cock probably felt.” He squirmed under Peter’s hold, growing impatient. “I could never decide how I thought you’d fuck me, though. Nothing ever felt exactly right.”</p><p>Peter hummed. “Well, you’re about to learn everything first hand.” He pulled his fingers out and lifted Stiles to his feet. For a moment, the ground was unsteady beneath his feet, but Peter was already bending him over the Nemeton. Stiles moaned. The moss beneath him seemed to grow softer the longer he lay against it. He could feel a brush of its awareness like an acknowledgement across his mind.</p><p>“Fuck, I think I’m an exhibitionist.”</p><p>Peter snorted, pouring more lube onto Stiles and—from the sound of it—smearing some onto his cock. “Getting hot and bothered, thinking about the mystical tree bearing witness to our mating, Stiles?”</p><p>Stiles stretched his arms across the top of the trunk, nodding urgently. “Y-Yeah, actually, kinda freaked me out before, but I can—it’s like it’s <em>watching</em>, and I—”</p><p>Peter rubbed the head of his cock across Stiles’ hole. “You're thinking too much, sweetheart.” He slid inside.</p><p>Stiles' thoughts went quiet. His lips parted. His vision lost focus. The stretch was just right. It was a little tight, but it didn’t hurt. There was only a pleasant burn, like leaning into a good stretch. Peter was draped across his back, skin on skin on <em>skin</em>, and Stiles thought he might be saying everything aloud, but he didn’t know and didn’t care. Peter’s thrusts were rough and deep and ruthless, but his hands were warm where they wandered, his mouth soft along the back of his neck, his shoulders.</p><p>Someone was crying.</p><p>After too long a space, Stiles realized the crying was <em>him</em>. “Fuck,” he hiccuped, “’m sorry, don’t know what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>Peter sucked a mark into his shoulder, pulling off with an obnoxious pop. A smile tugged at Stiles’ lips, even as the tears continued to fall. “Don’t worry about it, baby. Just give in to it. You’re taking everything so well.” He trailed kisses across his shoulders. “I’m proud of you.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Stiles gasped, back arching. “N-Not fair.”</p><p>“What's wrong?” Peter pulled back only to brush his lips against an ear. “I’m not allowed to tell you how good you are?”</p><p>Stiles clawed at the trunk, keening. “A-Alpha,” he gasped out. Peter’s rhythm faltered. <em>Bingo</em>. “Alpha, <em>please</em>, stop teasing me, I <em>need</em> you.”</p><p>“Oh, you little <em>minx</em>,” Peter growled. “You shouldn’t tease a wolf.”</p><p>Stiles lolled his head to the side, baring his throat. “Who’s teasing?”</p><p>Peter pulled out of him, flipped him onto his back, and sank back inside. “You can tease all you want, Stiles,” he said, eyes red. “But only me. You’re mine. All mine. I’ll never let you go.”</p><p>Stiles nodded, eager. “Yours. All yours. And you’ll never leave me. You’ll be mine. Forever.”</p><p>“Yes,” Peter agreed simply. “Not even death could keep me from you. Not for long.”</p><p>Stiles wanted to be unsettled by the declaration, but all he felt was relief. “What are you waiting for, Alpha?” Stiles offered his wrist. “Take what’s yours.”</p><p>Peter’s hips stuttered, but he took the offered wrist, dragging his nose along the skin and breathing in. Stiles hooked a leg around his hips. Peter kissed his wrist, skimming his lips until Stiles shivered.</p><p>And then, he bit down.</p><p>Stiles saw stars. His ears rang. Magic shot through him, stronger than anything he’d felt since he’d been possessed by the nogitsune. Stiles finally broke his silence, a rush of <em>Peter, Peter, Peter</em>, falling from his lips. As soon as Peter released his wrist, Stiles tugged him down, heedless of the blood on his skin as he sank his teeth into Peter’s shoulder, overwhelmed and overcome.</p><p>Peter <em>howled</em>. The sound rattled his ribs, and Stiles realized that Peter was coming, filling him up, and the magic was sinking through them into the Nemeton, binding them even tighter, closer, the magic almost suffocating in its euphoria.</p><p>He panted for breath as they both came down. His head spun. Peter looked dazed, a hand coming up to touch the—</p><p>“It’s not healing?” Stiles blinked slowly, not quite understanding his own words. The bite on Peter’s shoulder wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it... “Oh.” Stiles felt his dick give a valiant twitch. Peter had a scar on his shoulder. Stiles wanted to get his mouth back on it, unable to tear his eyes from it.</p><p>“Yours is already healed over,” Peter said, running a thumb over his wrist.</p><p>“I know we technically have things to take care of, but I really don’t want to move. I still haven’t gotten my mouth on you yet.” Stiles was still staring at his neck.</p><p>“We have all the time in the world.” Peter bent down and kissed him. Stiles felt <em>full</em>. Warm, and wanted, and full of love. Well, love <em>and</em>. “No one can take you away from me now.”</p><p>His eyes were glowing red again, like embers in a fire long since banked, still burning as hot as the flame ever had.</p><p>Stiles giggled a little helplessly. “Scott’s gonna be here any moment now,” he realized, “and I’m gonna be leaking your come.”</p><p>Peter grinned. Wolfish.</p><p>Stiles gasped with mock affront. “You <em>planned </em>this! You could have brought a condom!” Stiles thrilled with the thought. He was <em>marked</em>. Peter claimed him, marked him, mated him on the Nemeton. Stiles’ eyes fell to the side. The Nemeton had absorbed Theo’s body completely, but Stiles wasn’t as disturbed as he should be. They’d fucked right beside where Peter had left the body.</p><p>“When I get you back to my apartment, I’m going to clean you up with my tongue, and then mark you up all over again,” Peter promised.</p><p>“You fucking better.”</p><p>Stiles could sense people approaching, fumbling through the wood. He grimaced.</p><p>“Unfortunate timing,” Peter sighed. “I wanted to go another round.”</p><p>The cold rushed in as Peter pulled back, but the bond between them chased away the chill. Stiles pressed a hand to his chest, wondering and surprised.</p><p>“I don’t feel... Normally, there’s just emptiness, but now, I actually,” he looked up at Peter, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “I don’t feel cold.”</p><p>Peter's expression stayed the same, but his sympathy and regret washed through Stiles. “Should have given you this sooner,” Peter said, cupping his cheek.</p><p>Stiles sat up and kissed him. “I wouldn’t have let you.” He patted Peter’s chest. “Now, come on, clothes. The Nemeton can only hide us for so long.”</p><p>Peter huffed, but obliged, helping Stiles gather his clothes. As Stiles dressed, come dripped into his underwear, slick and warm and unpleasant. But Peter was eyeing him with lust and hunger, and the reminder of what they’d done made him feel steadier.</p><p>Peter was his now. No one could stop that.</p><p>Stiles took a seat on the Nemeton, kicking his legs absently. Peter stood beside him, resting a hand on the back of his neck and squeezing once. Stiles leaned into the touch, soaking up the affection while he could.</p><p>Everything was going to change. Again. And this time, Stiles was ready for it.</p>
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